Soccer OUCH!
by storymom
Summary: For annie35 at LJ she wanted Ryan gets hurt at a soccer game, but doesn't tell Kirsten & Sandy. Set in Season 1.Epilogue posted.
1. Chapter 1

Not exactly the most original of titles, but I couldn't think of anything original.  
Remember - this is set in Season 1, which isn't all that easy to write since those Cohen+1s just don't exist any longer. So sad, I miss them.

For annie35 who asked for "Ryan gets hurt at a soccer game but doesn't tell Kirsten and Sandy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Ryan cursed under his breath as he made his way through the house and out the back – to the privacy of the pool house. Not his pool house. THE pool house. Despite what the Cohens were already calling it, Ryan still thought of it as part of the Cohens' house, and therefore not his.

As he limped into the room, Ryan realized that he was now slightly thankful Mrs. Ward was at the school when the bus returned from the soccer game so he didn't have to walk home on his sore leg. Mrs. Ward had been kind enough to offer him a drive home, which was nice except that it meant he had to discuss the game the entire ride.

Luke called it the game from hell. Everyone had said that Pacific was tough, but Ryan had no idea they could be that tough. Well, not tough to beat, since Harbor killed Pacific 6 – 0.

Brutal was more like it. Somehow, those Pacific kids just knew that Ryan wasn't really a Harbor Pirate. Despite the fact that he now attended Harbor and lived in Newport, somehow they knew he wasn't really one of them.

It was like they were aiming for him whether he had the ball or not. Hell, it was actually worse when he didn't have the ball since the refs were too busy watching the action and missed the Pacific players pushing and shoving him from behind. When it became obvious that they were going to lose, they seemed to give up on the soccer game and invented their own game of 'Attack the Chino Kid'.

The first time he was knocked down, he let it go as an accident, even with the additional kick to the back of his calf – not protected by his shin guard.

The second time at least the ref saw it – for all the good it did.

Ryan's third and final hit came right after he scored another goal – a record third in the first half for him. His third knock down, after his third goal. It would have been ironic, had the Pacific kid not intentionally kicked him again and then stepped on his leg, dragging his cleat down the back of Ryan's calf. With metal cleats. Illegally worn metal cleats that not only tore up his sock but also his leg. It was enough for the refs to finally kick the kid out of the game, but it also resulted in Ryan's removal as well.

Despite telling the coach he was fine and trying to assure him that in spite of the blood, Ryan's leg really didn't hurt, the coach refused to allow Ryan to play the second half. He was benched, next to the second string players, and that, Ryan decided, was even more embarrassing than getting knocked on his ass.

At least on the field, he could hold his own. He couldn't openly fight back, not without the risk of trouble, but at least he wouldn't be perceived as a wimp who needed to hide behind his coach.

The paramedic was finally called over when the cuts on Ryan's leg wouldn't stop bleeding. She cleaned and bandaged it, then told Ryan "One gash looks pretty deep. Your parents may want to get it checked out."

When she said "parents," Ryan noticed some of the second stringers snicker. To make matters worse, the coach also noticed and warned the losers that if they didn't knock it off, they'd be running laps for an hour. After that, he offered Ryan an apologetic smile – yet another reminder that absolutely everyone in Newport knew he had no family of his own.

Ryan tried to push the whole miserable incident out of his mind as he hobbled into the bathroom, thankful that none of the Cohens were at the game to witness his humiliation. Kirsten couldn't get out of some meeting her father arranged, even though he knew Ryan had a game; Sandy couldn't get out of court; and Seth had some kind of comic book thing that Ryan didn't bother to ask about.

At first, he was actually a little disappointed. At least one of the Cohens had made it to each of his other games - something Ryan never had before but quickly got used to. And liked. A lot. More than he would ever admit out loud to anyone.

Now he was glad they couldn't make it. What they didn't know couldn't hurt Ryan. There would be no embarrassing talks, no pity filled expressions, or worse, no disappointed looks when they realized that Ryan really couldn't get along with anyone in Orange County.

He also definitely didn't need to bother either one of them with being forced to take time off to take him to a doctor. Not for a few cuts on his leg.

Ryan cursed again when he pulled the bandage off, and it stuck to the dried blood, causing the blood to start flowing again. At least he was able to wash the blood off as he stood under the shower. That's when he noticed the dark bruises from the additional kicks.

He cursed again when he noticed that while drying off, he got blood on the towel. The very soft, obviously expensive towel Kirsten had put in his bathroom that was now hidden in the bottom of his hamper until Ryan could clean or replace it if the blood didn't come out. He just hoped he had enough money left over from his summer job.

Ryan mumbled a few more swear words when he couldn't find any bandages large enough in the medicine cabinet to cover the gashes. He decided to put the old one back on, but had no tape in the medicine cabinet. As a substitute, he pulled out one of his old wife beaters and cut it into strips to tie the bandage on.

While he dressed, Ryan realized that putting his sweats on before dinner would make the Cohens suspicious. He opted instead for a pair of jeans – black in case he bled through the bandage and grabbed some aspirin in the hopes of stopping the throbbing that he didn't want to admit was quickly getting worse.

The paramedic had said something about propping his leg up when he got home, but as Ryan looked at the bed, he couldn't bring himself to put his feet all over Kirsten's expensive feather pillows. Instead, he decided to lie on the floor and put his legs up on the bed. That had to be okay since his feet were on the bed at night when he slept. It didn't make studying easy, but it had to be good enough.

Ryan fell asleep within a few minutes of looking at his history book and jumped when he heard Seth's voice over his head.

"Yo, dude, what's up with the new study technique? Comfy?"

"Yeah." Ryan rubbed his eyes and slowly pulled his legs off the bed, stifling a groan when he realized how stiff his leg had become.

"So, I heard you guys won today."

"Yeah. Who did you hear that from?"

"Some guys at school. Said it was a slaughter."

Ryan suddenly got nervous. "Did they say anything else?"

"They may have, but I kind of lost interest. Plus, I didn't want to risk any celebratory pee-ed in shoes. Why?"

"No reason."

"'Kay. Dinner's here. Chinese."

Ryan followed Seth out without another word, concentrating instead on walking as normal as possible. Obviously not normal enough because he noticed Seth staring at him.

"Um, Ryan, are you limping for any particular reason?"

"I'm not limping. Just stiff, I guess."

"Yeah, remind me not to try your new study position."

"No problem."

Ryan ducked into the kitchen behind Seth and sat in the chair obviously set for him since it was the only place setting without chopsticks – something else Ryan needed to work on. The Cohens had Chinese enough that he really needed to learn how to use chopsticks.

He smiled slightly at Kirsten when she passed him the Moo Shoo Pork, and she took it as an opportunity to start the conversation.

"So, how was the game?"

"Good."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

Sandy passed the egg rolls and joined the conversation.

"How'd you do?"

"Okay."

"Score any goals?"

"Yeah – a couple."

"Congratulations," Kirsten said. "I'm sorry I missed it. I've already cleared my schedule and warned my secretary not to let my father schedule anything for me so I won't miss Monday's game."

"That's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried, and it's not okay. I like being at your games. They're fun."

"Yeah, same here, kid," Sandy added. "I'm free Monday afternoon as well. Since it's a home game, maybe afterwards we can go out to dinner and celebrate."

"Celebrate what? We haven't even played the game yet let alone won."

"Well, we'll celebrate today's game and either celebrate Monday's or drown our sorrows in crab cakes."

Ryan nodded as he put his head down, and started to calculate in his head – it was Wednesday night. The next game was Monday afternoon. That was almost five full days for the cuts to heal and the bruises to fade, and his soccer socks would hide any of his remaining injuries. Except that's when Ryan remembered; he needed new socks to replace the one that was destroyed

Great, Ryan thought, it was becoming an expensive day. He knew he needed to buy bandages and peroxide for the cuts, he had to replace the bath towel if the blood didn't come out, and buy new soccer socks. Plus he was going to need more aspirin since his leg was once again beginning to throb, and he couldn't limp. Someone would notice if he limped and then he'd have to explain what happened.

Maybe he should quit the team and ask for his part time job back. But then he'd have to explain that. Not to mention the fact that the second he mentioned a part time job, Kirsten would again give him money and tell him they'd prefer if he concentrated on school. Of course, he could tell them that soccer was interfering with school. That would work, except for the fact Sandy would offer to get him a tutor.

Ryan continued to mull it over while lying in bed since the throbbing in his leg made it hard to fall asleep. He liked soccer. He liked playing soccer. He just hated the fact that everyone apparently knew he was not from Newport, and no one would let him forget it.


	2. Chapter 2

I guess I need that 'I don't own the OC or any of the characters' thingy, don't I? But really, since the Season 1 Cohen+1 no longer exists, why can't I have them? Please? I'll play nicely with them. Sort of.  
Still for annie35, still because she asked.

Oh, and before you say anything -- I know aspirin isn't good for Ryan to take. I know -- there is a reason for it, though.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ryan groaned as he slammed his hand down on the annoying alarm clock. He knew he had to get up early, shower, dress and get out of the house before the Cohens got up. He needed to stop by the drug store before school. Plus, if the continuously throbbing and stiffness that kept him up for the better part of the night were any indication, Ryan knew it would be difficult to walk without a limp.

Once again, pulling the bandage off caused his leg to bleed, and Ryan noticed that the bruises looked even darker and were now raised lumps. He once more showered the blood off but used toilet paper to dry off his leg, not wanting to ruin another bath towel.

He picked up the used bandage and tried to find a way to use it one last time. But upon closer inspection, he noticed that it was pretty dirty and too covered in blood to be of any use. For the second time that morning, he opted for toilet paper - this time to cover the wounds, using more strips from his wife beater to secure it in place.

The kitchen was still dark, but Ryan thought it was safer to walk around the house and down the driveway. He was clearly limping and didn't want to bump into anyone, like Sandy going out for an early morning surf.

By the time Ryan walked from the Cohens' to the pharmacy and then to school, he was tired, sore and seriously limping. He was also nauseous. Skipping breakfast and popping aspirin on an empty stomach made Ryan feel a whole lot worse. First he knew he needed to stop in the bathroom before he could get something to eat. He could feel the warm blood running down his leg into his sock through the toilet paper bandage. He sighed, adding new socks and possibly new jeans to the growing list of what he had to replace.

Once inside the bathroom stall however, Ryan realized he couldn't get his pant leg up over the raised bruises and swollen cuts. Even in a locked bathroom stall, Ryan knew there was no way he could pull his pants off. If someone were to come in, he'd be able to see Ryan's boots, socks and bare legs.

Ryan ran through some other alternatives. If he went to the nurse's office, he'd have to explain everything to her, and she would put it on his record. Ducking into the locker room meant running the risk of seeing the coach. If the coach saw Ryan trying to stop the bleeding with more bandages, then he would know the cuts were a bigger deal than Ryan let on the day before. That could very well mean getting benched again.

Frustrated and annoyed, Ryan stuffed the medical junk into his backpack and stormed to the student center. With an iced coffee to cool him down and a blueberry muffin to settle his stomach, Ryan sat on an empty couch, stuffing one of the school's pillows under his continuously throbbing leg.

Once settled, Ryan concentrated on the homework he hadn't finished from the day before. There was still an hour before his first class. If he stayed off his leg, the bleeding would stop and the throbbing wouldn't be so bad, making the rest of the day almost manageable.

Ryan grunted and then glared when Seth came in and proceeded to hit Ryan's leg as he plopped down next to him. "Mystery solved."

"What mystery?"

"Mystery of the missing Atwood."

"Seth…" Ryan was not in the mood and hoped his threatening tone would be enough to stop Seth. It wasn't.

"Seriously, Ryan. We all get up this morning. We all meet up in the kitchen. We all get our morning cup of caffeine. And we all await your grand appearance, but alas, no grand appearance. Dad checks the pool house but no Atwood. Now I'm under extremely strict orders to call as soon as I found you."

Seth pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Ryan. "Here. You call. Mom first and then Dad."

Ryan stared at Seth for a moment then at the cell phone, not sure if Seth was intentionally trying to annoy him or if he was simply exaggerating. "Why?"

"Because if you don't call, Mom will come here to look for you personally, and nothing ruins a rep more than having a 'rent come look for you."

"Seth, we don't have reps."

"And how can we improve that situation if you allow Mom to show up here?"

Seth smirked when his cell phone started to ring. "Ah, the Kirsten calls. I do believe it's for you."

Ryan didn't get much of his "hello" out before Kirsten started to talk.

"Ryan? Where are you?"

"School."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I, um, just wanted to get some studying done."

"Oh, okay. If you're sure…then, have a nice day, and I'll see you boys tonight at dinner. Call if you need anything."

Ryan hung up, trying to figure out if Kirsten was mad, irritated or relieved. He didn't get a chance to ask Seth when the cell phone started to ring in his hand again. It was Sandy.

"Hey, kid. So I guess Seth found you."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm at school."

Sandy chuckled. "Don't be sorry to be at school. We just didn't know where you took off to so early. Maybe next time you could leave a note."

"'Kay. Sorry."

"No problem. Call if you need anything. Bye."

Ryan handed the phone back to Seth. Since it didn't appear that either Cohen was mad at him for leaving early, he tried to go back to studying. Seth had other ideas. "So we're safe from a 'rent raid?"

"Yeah."

"And you really disappeared this morning because…?"

"To study."

Ryan kept his face down in the book, hoping Seth really would take the hint and leave him alone. He didn't.

"Come on, you really need to study here? What's wrong with home?"

"Well, you weren't here. I could study."

"So you're saying you can't study at home because of me?" Seth tried to joke. "Ryan, I'm wounded! How could you say that?"

"Am I getting any studying done now that you're here?" Ryan knew it was a hurtful thing to say but at the moment, it was how he felt. He wasn't in a joking mood and was clearly becoming annoyed.

Seth, however, didn't seem hurt. He hopped over the back of the coach, slapped Ryan on the shoulder and said, "Point taken. So then I guess I'll leave and let you get back to studying. I'll catch up with you later."

As Ryan watched Seth go, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty that he told Seth he left early to get away from him. Guilty that for some reason it bothered Kirsten and Sandy that he left early. Just so damn guilty.

Somehow, Ryan managed to make it through the day. His leg still throbbed almost continuously, and he had to duck into the bathroom to take more aspirin every couple of hours. It was hard to walk without a limp, but the few times he caught himself, no one else seemed to notice or care.

It helped that Ryan had very little trouble avoiding Seth, but it made him wonder if Seth wasn't trying to avoid him as well. Ryan figured it would be better not to wait until they were home to apology. Besides, he needed an excuse to be late for soccer practice.

Seth was in the parking lot and only stared as Ryan approached. He didn't look mad, but he wasn't saying anything either.

He waited for Ryan to talk first. "Look, about before, I'm sorry. For what I said. You know, this morning."

Seth continued to stare at Ryan, still not saying anything and again waiting for Ryan to talk. "It's just… It gets kinda hard to keep up sometimes, with soccer. Games. Practices. You know."

Again, Ryan got nothing from Seth so he had to stumble on. "It's just… your parents paid a lot of money for me to come here. I don't want to disappoint them."

It wasn't until Seth shrugged his shoulders that Ryan realized he wasn't mad about the morning, but there was definitely something on Seth's mind.

Finally Seth said, "I heard the game was really rough."

At first Ryan could only manage an "Um…" as he waited for Seth to say something else.

When Seth didn't, it was Ryan's turn to shrug his shoulders. "Not too bad."

"Yeah? You sure?" It didn't sound like Seth was even remotely convinced, and that made Ryan uneasy.

"Yeah. Look, I gotta go. I'm already late for practice. See you at home."

Seth merely waved as he watched Ryan jog back towards the school, figuring if Ryan was able to run and go to practice than what he heard the jocks talking about earlier must have been grossly exaggerated.

By the time Ryan got to the boy's locker room, he was sweating profusely, and his leg felt as if it was on fire. He had no idea how he was going to make it through practice.

About all Ryan could be relieved about was that since he was late for practice, there was no one in the locker room. He would finally get the chance to replace the morning's toilet paper dressing with some real gauze.

He shouldn't have been surprised by the look of the back of his leg, but he was. The angry looking raised purple bruises, the even angrier deep red gashes that were hot to the touch, the little bits of toilet paper stuck to the oozing wounds. Definitely worse than even he imagined.

Ryan limped over to the showers with the bottle of peroxide and poured it down the back of his leg. It fizzed and bubbled and burned, but Ryan knew he had little choice. He gritted his teeth and poured more over the cuts. It burned again, but Ryan knew as long as he continued to clean it with peroxide, the infection shouldn't get any worse.

He used one of the school's towels to dry off before carefully covering his calf with the gauze and medical tape. He decided to stuff the towel into his backpack, figuring he could use it at home instead of Kirsten's expensive ones.

Ryan dressed quickly, swallowed four aspirin and got out to the soccer field as quickly as he could. He was able to limp while still in the locker room, but he know once he got out on the field with everyone else, he'd have to suck it up and not let anyone see him in pain.

The rest of the team was already scrimmaging, and Ryan was about to join them when he heard the coach's booming voice. "Atwood!"

Ryan was apologizing even before he finished jogging over to him. "Sorry I'm late, coach. I…"

The coach cut him off, not bothering to wait for his excuse. "Got your note?"

"Um…note?"

"Your doctor's note, Atwood. Where is it?"

"I, ah…" Ryan tried to think of a lie but could only come up with, "I haven't seen the doctor yet."

"Then I can't let you practice. Not until the doctor clears you. Sit on the bench and watch."

As Ryan was once again benched, his thoughts swirled around in his head. He couldn't play until he saw a doctor? But where was he going to find a doctor? He couldn't even remember the name of the guy Kirsten took him to for his sports physical, not that Ryan could afford the guy. He doubted there were free clinics in Newport – not like Chino.

By the time Ryan hobbled home from soccer practice, he finally decided his best bet would be to tell the Cohens what happened. He hoped they wouldn't be too upset that he once again got himself in trouble, but he honestly did not know what else to do. This wasn't Chino. He couldn't go to the free clinic down the street where no one knew or cared whom he was or how he was hurt or ever expected payment.

He waited in the pool house until he heard someone call him for dinner. Ryan had hoped Sandy would be home first. Sandy was much easier to talk to and would let Ryan know right away if he was disappointed in Ryan's conduct. Kirsten tended to just stare at him, and he was never sure what she was thinking.

But it was Kirsten who was home, and Kirsten who was calling him to dinner. Sandy didn't come in until after they were already sitting at the table.

It was clear from the moment Sandy walked in that something was going on between the Cohens. Ryan looked from Kirsten to Sandy and back to Kirsten. He didn't know what was going on, but there was obvious tension between them. The few things that were said came in short questions, clipped responses or one-word answers.

The tension increased when Kirsten reminded Sandy that they had the Newport Environmental Conservation Dinner the next night, and they were expected to join her father at the club at 7:00pm sharp.

Sandy then reminded Kirsten that it would be extremely difficult to be seen hanging out with the defendant in his latest case, causing Kirsten to snap, "Are you talking about just my father, or does that mean me, too?"

She left the table without an answer from Sandy, but not before letting the boys know that they did not have to come to the dinner if they didn't want to. The way she said it meant that neither boy was expected to want to go or even invited to go.

It definitely was not the time to tell either one of them that he had trouble the day before.

Ryan took the phone book from the kitchen drawer and made his way out to the pool house after everyone had gone – Sandy left for his office; Kirsten went to hers, and Seth went upstairs, seemingly indifferent to his parents' fight.

As he scanned the yellow pages, he was surprised to find that there was a clinic down on the pier. If he couldn't go to soccer practice after school, he might as well go down to the clinic then. He'd be able to get the note to the coach before Monday's game, and that way if Kirsten or Sandy did manage to make the game, Ryan would be playing.

Before going to bed that night, Ryan again cleaned the cuts with peroxide, changed the gauze and was happy to see some of the swelling was going down. It still looked somewhat infected and was still bleeding every time he pulled off the bandage, but once Ryan got it checked out at the clinic, it would be okay.

The next morning, Ryan didn't try to leave early. He didn't want to risk freaking the Cohens out again, and he wasn't really limping all that much. The infection didn't look like it had gotten any worse and the throbbing had subsided to a dull ache.

He was relieved to see Kirsten and Sandy acting like the loving couple he was used to seeing. Even with Seth's "Ew, gross!" comments, it didn't bother Ryan knowing that the Cohens had obviously made up during the night.

Not only did they apparently make up, but sometime during the night, they decided to have a couples only Saturday at the Spa that further kicked up Seth's EW! response and made both Cohen parents smile and laugh.

Ryan made it through the school day with few problems. His leg was still bothering him, but he knew that was because of the infection. It wasn't a new feeling to him, and he knew the clinic would be able to give him something a little stronger than the peroxide – probably an antibiotic that Ryan hoped wasn't too expensive.

Unfortunately, a Newport clinic was nothing like the one in Chino. It wasn't a clinic at all. Nope – it turned to be yet another private doctor's office.

The receptionist behind the desk was not happy to see Ryan walk in without an appointment and immediately demanded identification from him. The fake id he had from Chino had been confiscated in juvie, so Ryan tried to tell her he forgot his wallet. She then demanded to know how old he was, and openly laughed when he said eighteen. She finally told him without identification, a parent or guardian, proof of insurance or money, Ryan would not be seen by anyone in their facility.

Ryan weighed his options as he walked home. He couldn't tell Sandy or Kirsten when they got home – they had their fundraiser that night. He couldn't tell them in the morning – they had their couples only day. He would either have to wait until Sunday or… wait… their couples only day meant they would both be gone all day, together, in one car. Ryan could take the other car and go down to the Chino clinic. He didn't want to wait until Sunday to get his leg looked at. The infection wasn't that bad, but Ryan knew the sooner it was looked at, the better the chances that it wouldn't get any worse. A doctor was still a doctor, whether from Newport or from Chino.

Once he made it back to the pool house, he cleaned out the cuts again, put clean bandages on it, and headed for the house. He and Seth decided on pizza and play station as Sandy joked about feeling ill, only to have Kirsten drag him from the house.

It was good to see them still getting along, and it was really good to put his leg up, grab some pizza and kick Seth's butt at Play Station. Having everything planned out, knowing that he didn't have to bother either Cohen or interrupt any of their plans made Ryan feel better than he had since the game from hell.


	3. Chapter 3

I still own nothing to do with the OC, the characters, the actors -- zip except for the 2006 calendar, 3 CDs, Season 1&2 on DVD and I think that's it. But if Josh wants to give them up -- I'll take um!

Much, much thanks to finlee and joey -- now you both know what poor ctoan goes through. I'm sorry, but thank you.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kirsten and Sandy had been at the benefit for a while before Caleb called to say he was "too busy to attend." It was a temporary relief to only have to exchange the usual small talk with all the usual Mr. and Mrs. Newpsies. After a while, Sandy leaned close to Kirsten and whispered, "I need something stronger than the Merlot. I'll be at the bar."

Kirsten smiled as she finished her glass and listened to Tarin talk about the benefits of Sea Lion sterilization. Not exactly what Kirsten was in the mood to listen to. She excused herself, grabbed another Merlot from the waiter and headed towards the bar herself.

She was surprised to be stopped by Meredith Ward. Ever since Carson's 'coming out' and their much talked about divorce, Meredith had been keeping a very low profile. It was good to see her at a charity event again.

"Kirsten! You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Meredith. So do you. How are you doing?"

"I'm actually doing pretty good. I'm sure you've heard, the divorce is going about as well as could be expected. Carson is, naturally, being very generous."

"Well, if you need anything…" Kirsten wasn't sure how to finish that sentence since she wasn't sure what Meredith might need. But small talk being, well, small talk, it was all Kirsten could think to say.

"Thank you. I promise to call. But I wanted to ask, how's Ryan doing?"

"He's fine." Kirsten spoke slowly, unsure what Meredith's curiosity was for Ryan.

"I'm glad to hear that. When Luke said Ryan wasn't at practice today, I was worried that one of the gashes was infected. Did Ryan need stitches? Did the doctor say if he could play Monday?"

Kirsten could only stare blankly at Meredith as she tried to process what she just heard. Gashes? Infected? Stitches?

Meredith, no matter how nice, was still a Newpsie through and through, and she didn't seem to notice Kirsten's bewildered expression as she chatted on.

"I hope you and Sandy have filed a formal complaint. I mean, I don't exactly know whom you would complain to, but I'm sure the coach knows. Can you imagine - those horrible Pacific kids going after Ryan merely because he's one of our best players? Simply criminal. Now that's a thought. Maybe Sandy should look into criminal charges. After all, metal cleats were banned years ago and to intentionally drag them down poor Ryan's leg? That has got to be a crime, especially if it keeps Ryan out of too many games. That'll really hurt Harbor's chances of finally being ranked number one."

Kirsten took a considerable sip of her wine. She could literally feel her heart sink as it dawned on her that Ryan had been intentionally injured at a game two days earlier and never said a word. Hurt bad enough that Meredith was talking about doctors and stitches and missing games. Ryan never said one single word about it, and that just broke her heart.

"Will you excuse me, Meredith? I need another glass of Merlot."

Meredith kissed the air next to Kirsten's cheek. "I hope to see you and Sandy at the game. Give Ryan my best and tell him to rest that leg. We need him on Monday. It's against Del Vista, you know. We'll need all the strength we have to beat them."

Kirsten absentmindedly nodded at Meredith as she began to scan the bar for Sandy. They needed to go home and talk to Ryan.

Sandy, in the meantime, had run into Ryan's coach, and he too was being enlightened.

The coach started with a smile, a pat on the back and a handshake before launching into his much-rehearsed apology.

"Sandy, I'm really glad to see you. I only came in the hopes of running into you. Look, I just wanted to say I am really sorry about Ryan."

"Sorry?"

"I'm sure you can understand that I couldn't let him practice on Thursday. Not without the doctor's note. Then when he didn't show up today, I figured either the doctor or you and your wife wouldn't allow him to return. I was planning on calling you first thing in the morning to explain if I didn't see you here."

"Explain?"

"I don't want you to think we're not planning on some sort of recourse against Pacific. I was just waiting for their coach to contact me. He finally got back to me late this afternoon, and I can assure you the boy with the metal cleats has been kicked off the team and banned from ever playing any sport for Pacific. Additionally, the other players have been severely reprimanded."

"Reprimanded?"

"I plan on filing charges with the league, and I will support any additional action you and your wife want to take."

Sandy finally put his drink down on the bar, looked the coach square in the eyes and said, "Bill, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Ryan didn't tell you about the game against Pacific?"

"Apparently not everything."

The coach inwardly groaned. He should have known. When the Cohens didn't immediately call, he should have known Ryan didn't tell them what happened. He took a deep breath before starting his explanation.

"From what I've been told, there was a list of our best players – those to be on the look out for during the game. Stevens, Nordland, Ward, Atwood. Stevens was benched with a hamstring pull, and Ward hasn't exactly been himself since that whole thing with his parents. That left Nordland and your boy. It was obvious from the start that Ryan was really on his game so he became the target. I allowed it to go on for too long, and I take full responsibility for that. But I'm telling you, Sandy, the kid really held it together. The harder they pushed him, the harder he played. It wasn't until after Ryan's third goal, when that kid gouged him that I finally came to my senses and pulled Ryan from the game."

The coach paused, with a slight smile on his face as he proudly said, "You know, your kid still argued with me after I pulled him. Kept telling me he was fine, that he didn't need to be benched, that he could still play. Even with all that blood gushing down his leg, he still wanted to be out there. Kid has a lot of guts."

"But sometimes I think not a lot of brains. At least not that he uses." Sandy wasn't smiling and the feeling he had definitely wasn't a sense of pride.

The coach shook his head, realizing the condition Ryan's leg must be in without proper medical care. "You need to get him to a doctor, Sandy. Dirty metal cleats could really cause a serious infection, especially with how deep Ryan was cut."

Kirsten joined them at the tail end of the conversation. "I've already seen Dr. Adams over by the ice sculptures. Ryan has an appointment for 8:00am tomorrow morning."

The coach tried to smile at Kirsten. "Glad to hear that. I am truly sorry about what happened. If you'd like to meet at my office after Ryan's doctor's appointment, we can discuss whatever recourse you would like to take."

"That would be fine, Bill. Thank you. If you'll excuse us, I think Sandy and I should get home." Kirsten didn't say anything else as she and Sandy made their way through the club or as they waited for the valet to bring their car or even as they drove away.

About a mile from home Kirsten finally said, "I knew we shouldn't have missed that game. One of us should have been there. I should have just told my father to run the meeting by himself."

"Funny, I was just thinking I could have sent someone else to the courthouse or tried to get an adjournment. But that's not really the problem here."

"I know. Why wouldn't he tell us?"

"Because he's Ryan. I'm sure he somehow feels this is his fault, and he didn't want to bother us with it."

Kirsten's voice rose in anger. "Well, I'm more bothered that he didn't tell us; that we had to find out about it at some Newpsie event. And I plan on telling him that, too."

"If you go into the house yelling at him, Ryan won't come to us next time either."

"I'm not going to yell at him, but we can't let him think that lying to us is okay."

Sandy pulled into their driveway, knowing that the short drive home was not enough to calm Kirsten down. "Ryan didn't lie to us. He just didn't tell us everything. I'll talk to him so he understands that we're here for him and that he's not bothering us. I'll make sure he knows that he needs to come to us when he has a problem."

"You mean _we'll_ talk to him." Kirsten slammed the car door shut and went into the house. She heard the boys laughing and playing their videogame as she headed for the den.

The tone of her "boys" made Ryan look up, giving Seth the perfect opportunity to stab his ninja. "Ha! Got ya! Ready for the death match?"

Ryan continued to look at Sandy and Kirsten as Seth hit the reset button. They were home way too early. "Um… how was the thing?"

"Informative."

It was the way Sandy said it that made Ryan hit the pause button, surprising Seth. "Hey! What gives? You afraid of some more Cohen wrath?"

Even though Seth was obviously talking about the videogame, the looks Ryan was getting from both Kirsten and Sandy made Ryan more concerned about their Cohen wraths.

"Don't you think you boys should get ready for bed?"

Seth snorted as he hit the resume button. "Sure, Mom, just tell me where my Spiderman PJ's are first."

When he was the only one to laugh, Seth said, "You're serious? It's like 9 o'clock on a Friday night. I think we may be old enough to stay up until at least 9:30. Right, Ryan?"

Ryan didn't answer. It had been years since the last time someone had sent him to bed, and obviously never while living with the Cohens. He had no idea what was going on, and that made him uneasy.

It only got worse when Kirsten said "Good night, _Seth_." She then looked at Sandy. "I'm going to go change." She left without a word to Ryan.

Sandy followed. "Good night, Seth. Ryan, we'd like a word with you in a little bit."

Ryan nodded as he started out of the room. He was hoping to get out before Seth said anything. He didn't get far.

"Dude? What did you do?"

Ryan didn't bother to answer and made his way back to the pool house as quickly as possible. He changed into his sweats and wife beater but didn't bother to clean out the wound or change the bandage. He didn't want to make it worse by leaving the Cohens waiting.

He exited the bathroom, anxious to get back into the house and was surprised to see Sandy and Kirsten both waiting for him in the pool house. He knew that was not good. Oh yeah, that much he definitely knew.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan didn't move very far from the bar stools as he stared at the Cohens. He waited for one of them to say something, figuring it would be Sandy. He was somewhat surprised when Kirsten started to speak.

"So about that soccer game again."

"Oh." Ryan dropped his gaze and began to study the pattern of the floor tiles.

"Is there something that you may have forgotten to tell us?"

Glancing up, Ryan saw Kirsten cross her arms and give him a look that he knew meant she expected immediate answers.

"Um…"Ryan had no idea what Sandy and Kirsten were told, but they seemed so mad that all he could think to say was,"There wasn't a fight."

"No, it was an attack. You were attacked."

"I, ah… It's no big deal."

"Yes. It is. A very big deal from what we hear." Kirsten sighed and moved closer to Ryan. Her voice softened only slightly. "But what we don't know is why we had to hear it from other people and not from you."

"Um…" Both Cohens stood there, watching him, waiting for Ryan to say something else, and yet the only thing he could think of was, "Really, it was no big deal."

Kirsten shook her head sadly as Sandy said rather harshly, "You said that already. Now tell us something we can believe."

Ryan was quickly getting upset. He didn't know what the Cohens wanted him to say, and that made it all the more frustrating. "Look, it was just a reminder. I told you before, I don't exactly fit in here."

He wasn't sure what he expected from his answer, but it definitely wasn't Sandy chuckling. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but yes, you do. More than you know."

When Ryan didn't answer, Sandy said, "You were on a list of players that the Pacific team wanted to target -- for being one of Harbor's best, not for being an outsider."

"Oh." Since that was unexpected, Ryan had nothing else to say.

Kirsten, on the other hand, did. "That still doesn't explain why you didn't tell us about it, especially since you need to see a doctor."

Ryan was still very much on the defensive. "I did go to see a doctor."

"When and what doctor?" Ryan wasn't sure if Kirsten already knew the truth and was somehow testing Ryan.

"Today, at the clinic on the pier." It was the truth, sort of.

"Really? Who did you see, and what did he say?"

Um…" Ryan tapped his hand on top of the bar stool, briefly debating what he should say. But it was no use; Ryan simply couldn't lie. Studying the floor again, he finally admitted, "Without a parent or guardian and proof of insurance or money, they wouldn't see me."

"Considering the fact you have guardians who have insurance and money, that still doesn't explain why you didn't tell us about what happened." Kirsten really did seem stuck on that one fact, and Ryan noticed that her hands were now on her hips – not a good sign.

"It's no big deal."

Seeing both their glares, Ryan quietly said, "Sorry."

They both continued to stare at Ryan, obviously waiting for him to open up.

"Look, I didn't know why they were aiming for me. Nobody told me so I figured, you know… and the cuts really aren't that bad. I've had worse." He had no idea what to say that would finally satisfy them and decided to once again study the pattern on the floor.

"But what about infection? Meredith and Bill both said they were worried about infection." Ryan looked up when he heard the concern in Kirsten's voice - and Luke's mom and the Coach asking about him? That was surprising.

"I've got the infection under control." He immediately regretted mentioning the infection as soon as he saw the look on Kirsten's face.

"Okay, Ryan," Kirsten said. "Let's see it."

Ryan didn't move from his place next to the bar stools. "I, ah…"

"Now, Ryan." Kirsten pointed towards the bed.

Ryan immediately recognized the full-fledged 'The Kirsten' mode – that take charge, do-not-argue-with-me Kirsten that Ryan had seen a few times before. Seth liked to joke about The Kirsten, but she made him a little nervous.

He looked from Kirsten to Sandy, not sure what he was hoping for, but he certainly wasn't hoping to see Sandy pointing towards the bed as well.

Left with no other option, Ryan shuffled over to the side of the bed, looking at them both one last time before sitting down and pulling up his pant leg. He jumped slightly when Kirsten sat down next to him, and quickly went from a little nervous to incredibly nervous.

Kirsten and Sandy didn't say or do anything as Ryan began to remove the bandage. But then Kirsten moved her hands toward the back of his leg. That's when he realized that The Take Charge Kirsten was going to help him, and he moved his leg away quickly.

"I need to go slow. You know – the hair and stuff. It, um, kinda hurts."

That didn't stop The Kirsten, but at least she was gentle as she removed the tape. "You certainly did a good job with the bandage."

"Years of experience."

Ryan noticed Kirsten's shoulders sag and again regretted something he said; she didn't need any reminders that he was used to infections and injuries. Luckily, Kirsten didn't say anything until she finished pulling off the gauze.

"Oh Ryan," she said softly. "This is a whole lot more than nothing."

"I've been cleaning it out with peroxide." He really wanted her to understand that he was able to take care of himself. Kirsten patted his knee as she stood up and walked out of the pool house.

Ryan looked at Sandy, who had been quietly watching, but neither one of them had a chance to say anything when Kirsten returned and sat down next to him.

"Peroxide burns," Kirsten said as if Ryan didn't already know that. "Dr. Adams said to use an antibiotic cream." Kirsten was once more very gentle as she covered Ryan's leg with a thick layer of cream.

The next time she stood up, Kirsten walked into the pool house bathroom. She promptly returned with the gauze, which she lightly wrapped around Ryan's leg.

Ryan waited for her to wrap it again and tape it. When she didn't, he said, "You need to do more. It still bleeds."

"The doctor said only light covering to protect it, but still allow it to breathe."

"But it still bleeds."

Kirsten again didn't say anything as she went over and got one of the expensive fluffy towels. She wordlessly pulled Ryan's arm, directing him to stand up. As he stood there, Kirsten pulled back the covers, moved some of the extra pillows down by the foot of the bed and covered them with the towel.

"But it still bleeds," Ryan said for the third time as if Kirsten didn't understand him the first or even the second time he said it.

"Then we buy new towels and sheets. The doctor doesn't want it wrapped tightly." Kirsten's tone left no room for Ryan to argue.

She left the pool house one last time, returning with a bottle of water and Tylenol, which she handed to Ryan.

"I have aspirin." Ryan tried to hand the bottle back to her, but Kirsten pushed it towards him.

"You need Tylenol. Aspirin is one of the reasons you're still bleeding. It makes it harder for your blood to clot."

"Oh, I didn't know that." Aspirin was cheaper than Tylenol. Ryan always had aspirin.

"Well, I did, and if I had known about this sooner…" When Ryan cast his eyes downward again, Kirsten stopped and changed the subject. "I'm setting your alarm clock for 6:30. I know it's early, but it will give you enough time to shower, us enough time to change the dressing, and for everyone to have breakfast before your appointment with Dr. Adams."

"But tomorrow is your couples thing."

"No, that's next week."

"No, it's…"

"Next weekend." Again with the tone, so Ryan decided it was better to stop irritating The Kirsten. Hell, Ryan noticed that even Sandy had taken a step back.

"Prop your leg up on the pillows." Kirsten gestured toward the bed, and Ryan quietly climbed in. Once he put his leg up on the fluffy towel covered pillows, Kirsten arranged and rearranged the covers. Finally she began to clean up and took a step back.

The Take Charge Kirsten was apparently done and decided it was time to make room for The Lecturing Sandy, which did little to calm Ryan's nerves.

"So look, we understand that you felt you had your reasons for not telling us. But you need to realize that regardless of what those reasons are, it's important that we know when something like this happens."

Ryan clearly tensed further as Sandy continued. "There are consequences for what happened the other day. You had to know we wouldn't let it go. Tomorrow after your doctor's appointment, we're meeting with your coach at the school to discuss what recourse to take."

"How many games do you think I'll be benched for?" Ryan began to pull at a loose thread on the blanket.

"That's up to Dr. Adams."

"What about the coach?" Ryan muttered.

With a slight smile, Sandy said, "My guess is he's hoping that, somehow, the doctor will let you play Monday."

Ryan looked up at Sandy. This was getting a little confusing. "But you keep talking about consequences and recourse. That doesn't sound like I'm playing Monday."

It was Kirsten who caught on first as to what Ryan was thinking. "Not against you."

"Ryan, this isn't your fault," Sandy stressed. "You didn't say or do anything to deserve being attacked."

"Well, except doing your best at soccer," Kirsten added. "And for that, we're very proud of you."

Ryan blushed as he continued to fiddle with the thread on the blanket. He still found it embarrassing whenever they complimented him. That good feeling was short lived as Sandy continued the talk.

"You need to remember that you're living in Newport now, and you will be living here for a long time. I know you're not used to the way things are handled here, and you still try to handle them the way you're used to but…"

Ryan was quick to interrupt. "No, I didn't. You said no more trouble. No fighting, so I didn't. I let it go."

"No, you're right. I agree; you can't fight. Not on your own, but we can. There are other ways to fight that don't include your fists. The meeting with your coach is to decide what we want to do against Pacific. Not you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, except for not telling us," Kirsten amended, raising hereyebrows to further her point.

"Yeah, kid. You've got to remember to come to us. Not only do we want to know, we need to know. From you, not from town gossip. No matter what, we're here for you. Understand?"

Ryan stole a quick glance in Kirsten's direction. "Yeah, except now you're missing your couples day."

He didn't miss the glare she gave so he quickly looked back at Sandy.

"Not really. We'll still be a couple. A couple of concerned parents." Both Sandy and Kirsten began nodding as if somehow that made it all true.

"That's not the same."

Kirsten gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "No, it's not. It's more important."

Ryan continued to play with the blanket, quietly thinking for a minute. "You know, you could drop me off, or Seth could come with me."

Kirsten twisted her wedding ring around her finger as Sandy rubbed his forehead. Neither one of them said anything at first.

With a loud sigh, Sandy leaned closer to the bed. His voice was once again stern. "You're not listening to us, Ryan. We're taking you to the doctor's in the morning, and then we're meeting with your coach at the school. Maybe we'll all grab lunch if you're up to it. But those are the only plans for tomorrow. Nothing more. Nothing less. Is that understood?"

Ryan could only nod as he finally pulled the loose thread from his blanket. Both Cohens again grew quiet, and Ryan could tell that they were staring at him, even if he wasn't looking at them. He had no idea what else they wanted him to say, especially since everything he said was obviously wrong. Ryan waited for one of them to continue the lecture or tell him what his punishment was.

Finally Sandy said, "I've got to say, three goals and you didn't play the whole game -- pretty impressive. You still managed to score half the total points for Harbor. I'm really sorry I missed seeing that."

Ryan shrugged as he again blushed but finally relaxed. Once Sandy started to make small talk, Ryan knew the big talk was thankfully done. At least for now, since meeting with the doctor and the coach the next day would naturally lead to more talking. Much, much more talking.

"We'll let you get some sleep now. See you in the morning." Kirsten picked up the gauze and the Tylenol as she moved towards the door.

"Remember – we're always here for you, kid. It's our job to be an annoying parental part of your life, and it's a job we take very seriously." Sandy turned out the light as he and Kirsten headed out of the pool house.

Ryan lay in bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling and thinking. Originally he didn't want to tell the Cohens because he didn't want to disappoint them. Then he didn't want to tell them because they were busy, and he didn't want to bother them.

And yet by not telling them, he still managed to both disappoint and bother them. Not only that, but he also managed to ruin their day together, and yet they seemed more upset that he mentioned ruining it than they were by the fact that the day was ruined.

Ryan seriously began to wonder if he was ever going to get this family thing right. He also wondered if the Cohens would continue to be understanding as he tried to figure it out.

He fell asleep worried that if there ever came a time that he screwed up so royally, would the Cohens finally decide that it just wasn't worth it? That he just wasn't worth it?

God, he hoped not.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Fin', I think. (Because my mind is blank as to the doctor's appointment and the meeting with the coach, and we're on vacation.)_

_Maybe after a week with my mother – who knows!_


	5. Chapter 5

Ryan felt like a complete idiot.

Although it seemed to take forever for the doctor to give his consent to play, Ryan was finally on the field again, but not for long. Here he was, in only his third practice back, sitting on the bench, with an ice pack on the back of his leg. His recently healed leg… make that his once recently healed, now re-injured leg.

This time it really was just an accident. He and Luke went for the ball at the same time, with almost the same amount of speed and power. Ryan kicked the ball, and Luke kicked Ryan. Hard. Hard enough to knock Ryan to the ground. Before he could get up and shake it off, there was the coach, Luke and a couple of the other guys picking him up and helping him over to the bench.

Fortunately, it was just a bruise. No gashes, no cuts, not one drop of blood. Okay, it was a big bruise - getting bigger, getting darker, getting more painful bruise, but still – just a bruise. Okay, a big bruise.

That didn't stop the coach from asking, "You going to tell them, or should I call them?"

Ryan looked down at the ice pack as he thought about it for a minute. "Call, I guess," he said softly. The coach walked away, cell phone in hand as Luke stayed with Ryan, apologizing so much and so loud, that Ryan couldn't hear whom the coach was talking to.

All Ryan knew from the coach was that he was to "Stay there. Keep the ice on it. Someone will be right here."

The coach went back to coaching, Luke went back to practicing with the other guys, and Ryan sat there, not knowing if it was Sandy or Kirsten who was coming or when.

Ryan kept reminding himself as he waited that he was doing what they told him to do. Over and over and over they told him that he needed to tell them when something happened. So he did - he got hurt, he called. Okay, technically, the coach called, but Ryan was the one who said to call. That had to count for something. Still, he felt stupid, sitting on the bench, icing down a bruise, waiting for one of them to come get him.

At least he didn't feel as stupid as he did the day after the Cohens found out about his leg. He thought it was bad when they came into the pool house that night to "talk." That was nothing compared to his doctor's appointment, complete with Kirsten and Sandy in the room.

xxxxxxxx

The Cohens watched everything: the examination, the cleaning and the bandaging of his leg. They watched and listened to the instructions for the crutches that Ryan tried to get out of using, and asked a lot of questions when they wanted the doctor to clarify something about 'caring' for Ryan.

They both sighed – loudly- when the doctor pointed out that because of the amount of time between the accident and his appointment it was not possible to stitch the wound up. The Doctor looked directly at Ryan when he emphasized that Ryan could have really used some stitches.

Sandy and Kirsten both nodded and mumbled between them when the doctor said to call Neil Roberts since the butterfly bandages used would not help reduce the scarring that would be occurring.

Then, as if all of that wasn't bad enough, they watched his tetanus shot, since Ryan couldn't remember his last one. Of course, Sandy had to point out that the records they had made no mention of recent tetanus boosters. The Cohens also watched as the nurse gave him the other shot - an antibiotic for the infection that obviously wasn't cleared enough with just peroxide

As Ryan got dressed, the doctor continued to talk and write out a prescription for the antibiotic pills he needed since the shot wouldn't be enough. Kirsten put the note to the coach that benched him for an indefinite amount of time into her purse, and Sandy made sure to take the crutches he tried to leave behind. Ryan was less than pleased when Sandy handed him the crutches and made him use them.

The next stop was the coach's office for the next round of awkwardness. Ryan knew the coach was going to yell, so he wasn't surprised when the coach immediately ripped into him. It was just very embarrassing with the Cohens there, but what really made him want to crawl under the nearest rock was when Kirsten stopped the guy with the tone of her voice.

"Bill, Sandy and I have already been over this with Ryan. I'm sure there are other things to discuss."

Before the Coach could choke out a response, there was a knock on the door, and Ryan's day went from really bad to really worse. Ryan wasn't sure what to say or do when in walked the coach from Pacific along with the kid with the metal cleats and what had to be the kid's parents

The Cohens must have been worried, too, because Kirsten squeezed Ryan's hand tight, and Sandy gave him a look. Ryan decided to sit back, shut up and not get himself in any more trouble. Let the adults work it out since all Ryan wanted to do was go home, throw away the damn crutches and forget the entire nightmare.

The adult conversation quickly turned ugly when Cleat Kid's father demanded to know what Harbor had against his kid continuing to play other sports for Pacific if 'that blond kid' only played soccer. That led to Coach Bill pointing out the seriousness of the rules violation, which led to Cleat Kid offering up a lame apology and Pacific's coach offering to suspend the kid from any and all games against Harbor in the future.

Ryan was willing to agree to that just to get out of the office. Unfortunately, Sandy wasn't willing to agree to any of it. He demanded the kid be suspended and then threatened legal action. Cleat Dad's idle threat that his wife's brother was an attorney in Southern California only made Sandy laugh as he smugly told them that he was an attorney right in Orange County.

When Cleat Kid's mother then tried to plead that they all had to think of "Tad's future," Kirsten demanded to know why "Tad" didn't think about Ryan's future. When she then tried to claim it was just an accident, a simple mistake and "Tad" promised that he'd never do it again, Kirsten's tone was certainly harsh as she told Tad's mom that of course he would never do it again, because Tad would not be playing sports for Pacific again.

That seemed to shut Tad's mom up, but to Ryan's horror, Kirsten grabbed his hand again.

Tad's father once again began to spout off about how unfair it all seemed for poor Tad, who had already been grounded and had his car taken away – for a whole week. Kirsten tried to remind them all that Ryan would be off his feet a whole lot longer, but that didn't do anything to shut him up, which then got Sandy angry.

Sandy's indignant, "well, if your kid hadn't intentionally hurt my kid…" made Ryan feel like he was still out in the grade school sandbox.

Both coaches finally suggested that if Sandy and Kirsten agreed not to pursue legal action, Tad's parents would agree that Tad be banned from all sports for a period of no less than two years. When both sets of parents begrudgingly agreed, Ryan was relieved that the whole nightmare was thankfully over.

Ryan hobbled as quickly as he could out of the office – with his head down, embarrassed by all the commotion. But he did have a slight smile on his face, feeling kind of weirdly warm all over at how much Kirsten and Sandy actually stood up for him. It was definitely something new, and yet he thought it was something he could actually get used to and maybe even like – not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

After they finally made it back to the car – Sandy on his left and Kirsten on his right with Ryan trying to maneuver on the damn crutches, he decided lunch at home would be better than at a restaurant. Sandy figured it was because Ryan was tired, and Kirsten figured it was because he was sore.

In reality, Ryan wanted to go home to spare himself any more public humiliation, given the fact both Cohens were still ranting about the meeting, that 'awful' family as well as his leg and calling Dr. Roberts. If the Cohens were going to continue talking about it - and they were going to continue to talk about it because they were Cohens, after all - he'd rather it be at home instead of trying to hide under the table at a restaurant.

Sandy dropped them off at home before going to get lunch and Ryan's prescription. Since the doctor stressed the importance of Ryan staying off his leg as much as possible, Kirsten set him up on the den couch with his leg again propped up on pillows. She brought him some Tylenol, a bottle of water, and she handed him the television remote.

Kirsten offered to get him whatever he needed from the pool house. Ryan tried to tell her he was fine, and he could get what he needed himself. All he got in response was 'the look.' Since Ryan had become very familiar with the look, he knew to stay exactly where he was.

Ryan almost reminded Kirsten that he'd already been on his leg for the past three days. Almost, but he didn't. He was learning, slowly, but still learning. Instead Ryan asked if she would mind getting his history book, and noticed that she actually smiled as she left the den.

xxxxxxxx

Adjusting the melting ice pack, Ryan smiled and shook his head as he thought about that day. It was the sound of a car screeching to an abrupt halt that made him look up quickly. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the Range Rover in the school parking lot, and Kirsten hastily exiting the car.

Ryan sat up straight when Kirsten reached the bench.

"You okay?" she asked, looking at the ice pack on his leg.

"Yeah. It was an accident."

"What kind of accident?" The tone told Ryan that Kirsten didn't believe him. Luckily, the coach and Luke were joining them before Ryan had to respond.

Luke was talking even before he reached them. "Mrs. Cohen, I swear it was an accident. I didn't mean to kick him."

"You kicked him?"

"By accident, I swear. We were both going for the ball at the same time." Luke shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'm not used to someone being faster than me."

It was Ryan's snort of laughter that made everyone look at him again. Kirsten reached down, but this time, Ryan was quick to show her his leg.

"Look, it's just a bruise. No bleeding, I swear."

Kirsten offered him a small smile before turning to the coach for some sort of confirmation.

"It's true, Kirsten. It really was just an accident, and Ryan really only has a bruise. But given what already happened the last time, Ryan asked that I call you."

When Kirsten looked at Ryan again, her smile was bigger, and she put her hand gently on his shoulder. Suddenly, Ryan no longer felt stupid.

He did groan when the coach said, "You know I'm going to need another doctor's note."

Ryan then moaned when Kirsten said, "I figured as much. His appointment is in twenty minutes."

As Luke helped him to the car, Ryan pointed toward the school. "My stuff…"

"Don't worry. I'll drop it off at your house after practice. See how you're doing. Again, man, I'm sorry."

Ryan was about to tell him, "no worries" when that distinct black BMW came screeching into the parking lot.

Sandy quickly replaced Luke at Ryan's side. "What happened?"

"It was an accident." Ryan couldn't help it that he sounded annoyed, but damn – did the coach have to call both of them? One was enough, both was definite overkill. It was an accident. A stupid accident. It didn't help that Luke suddenly disappeared with a quick but rather nervous, "Catch ya later, Chino."

Just like Kirsten, Sandy demanded to know, "What kind of accident?"

Ryan looked at Kirsten, not having any problem with letting her do the explaining this time.

"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. Just a practice accident, but Ryan told the coach to call."

Ryan didn't miss the fact that Kirsten somehow sounded strangely proud of that fact, and that made Ryan blush. He climbed into the passenger seat of the Range Rover as Kirsten and Sandy continued to talk.

Kirsten closed his car door before turning back to Sandy. "How did you know? Your secretary said you were meeting with clients."

Sandy pulled a small pink note from his pocket. "I was, but then she slipped me this message, 'School called. Son's been hurt at practice.' You didn't answer your cell so I didn't know what to think."

He looked from Kirsten to Ryan and back to Kirsten again. Ryan felt guilty when he finally noticed the frazzled look on Sandy's face. "Sorry. It was just me…"

"Yeah, I kind of figured that one out," Sandy said. "Unless, of course, Seth suddenly starting playing sports sometime this afternoon, or Lit Mag was practicing for something I wasn't aware of."

"Oh. I, ah…" Ryan didn't know what to say as they both looked at him. Guilt quickly gave way right back to stupid, and Ryan looked at his leg, at his team practicing, at the dashboard – anywhere but at Kirsten and Sandy. He figured he'd let them talk, and he would just…not.

"I'm sorry, Sandy. I left my phone in the car when I was getting Ryan. I was going to call you again on our way to the doctor's."

"Doctor's? I thought you said it wasn't serious." Sandy moved quickly towards the car, trying to see what exactly Ryan's injury was.

"It's just a bruise." Again, Ryan knew he probably shouldn't sound so exasperated, but it was really just a bruise.

"On his bad leg," Kirsten added. "It's just a precaution. Bill needs a note before Ryan can continue to play, and since there's still some residual swelling and scarring, Dr. Z said to bring Ryan in."

Sandy nodded because apparently taking Ryan to a "Dr. Z" made complete sense to him, but not to Ryan.

"What is a 'Dr. Z'?" he asked.

"She's Dr. Adam's partner," Kirsten said. "Judy's last name is a little difficult to pronounce so all the kids just call her 'Dr. Z'. You'll like her, I promise."

Ryan mumbled a simple, "fine" as he closed his eyes and laid his head back. He didn't bother to open them when he heard Sandy ask, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Nor did he open them when he heard Kirsten. "That's okay. I have the afternoon free." Ryan doubted she did, but he wasn't going to say anything. Something else he was slowly learning – don't argue even if you know it's not true.

He heard them kiss but still didn't open his eyes. "Call me after the appointment." Ryan figured he was talking to Kirsten, but then felt a pat on his arm. He opened his eyes to find Sandy reaching through the car window. "Take care, kid. Do whatever the doctor says, and I'll see you later."

Ryan nodded as he waved goodbye, watching as Sandy walked back to the BMW, looking over his shoulder a couple of times before climbing into his car and driving away.

"Ready to go?" Kirsten asked as she put the Rover in reverse.

Ryan's "yeah" was quiet since he wasn't sure what else to say. He gave a couple of sideways glances in Kirsten's direction, but if she noticed, she didn't say anything. Not at first.

After a few very quiet minutes, she finally said, "I'm glad you called."

"Thanks." Ryan knew he was blushing again. "I, ah… thanks."

"If you're good, I'm sure Dr. Z will give you a lollipop." It was obviously a bad joke, but it still had the desired effect of at least making Ryan chuckle.

"As long as I don't get another shot."

"Nah. It's just a bruise. You'll be fine."

"Yeah."

Sure – he'd be fine. Just as long as he remembered to call when he got hurt. For whatever reason, it made them happy. So, yeah – he'd be fine as long as he called.  
One less Cohen type thing he needed to learn. Call when I'm hurt. Got it. No problem.

He hoped.


End file.
